Thursday, August 9, 2012

A Slice of Santa Barbara, or: Time, The Ocean and Two Cloudy Days

Monday,

What can I say about this place? That I came up from L.A. thirty years ago for air and stayed? That I'd grown allergic (literally) to the L.A. smog? That Santa Barbara called me here, then swallowed me like a blotter absorbing ink? Quietly, painlessly, the years dissolved.
When I drive through the city now, on my way to the library, or to buy a gift for a friend, I coast the familiar streets with their rock-lined hedges, their bougainvillea, oaks and palms . . . and I wonder . . . how it could be that all those days have washed away and left barely a ripple?

Today, under dense clouds, while most of the world is churning, and I can practically hear it groan, I've decided to stop at the beach and take a peek at what lies beyond the hedges and the rock walls. What color is the ocean today? My guess is that it's opal. And who waits on the sand? It's safe to say seagulls. But what I know deep down, is that there, beside the water, no matter how cloudy or sunny, at high tide or low, what I'm certain to find, hovering in the mist -- is some kind of magic.

Tuesday,

Yesterday, when I took myself to the beach, after writing that a visit to the ocean guaranteed magic, I found myself on a cloud-shrouded shore at high tide. To my left, a cove lined with cottages, arced to the south, with only a thin strip of private beach untouched by the high tide.

To my right, beside the beach wall, sat a girl in a turquoise T-shirt, with long, blonde surfer-girl hair. Perfectly still, she stared toward the inaccessible north coast.

I stood on a small patch of beach in front of a storm drain. This was not what I'd had in mind when I predicted magic. I had pictured myself walking beside the water with my arms and legs swinging in sync with the rhythms of the surf. Instead, I perched on a pile of rocks and gazed at the agate ocean as it pushed and pulled and pulsed.

When I looked back toward the cove, I saw a tiny being on the sand: a squat toddler in bright blue shorts. He took solid steps and seemed amazed that he was upright as he planted each foot like a stake in the sand, fully at home in his world.

To my right, the girl at the beach wall, like a painting by Andrew Wyeth, continued to sit and stare. Behind me, stood a mass of concrete, etched and pock-marked with erosion. On closer inspection, I found within it and around it an eerie gallery of strangely stunning modern art.

And that was the picture, nothing dazzling, nothing bright -- a quiet diffused scene.

Later in the day, while hiking in the hills, after the sun had finally broken through, I caught a glimpse of The Islands and was amazed to see that they had completely changed from what they were earlier in the day. In the morning, at the beach, The Islands had been fuzzy and charcoal gray; now, from out of nowhere, they bared the clearest typography I'd seen in years.

**Be cool all of you lovely people. I'll be posting again on August 20th. ~ Anitra

Friday... Magic found me... My favorite blogger (other than the grumpy old man who stares back from the mirror) had left a new post... she wrote about wandering down to Santa Barbara, tired of the LA smog... and I thought about a younger version of the grumpy old man, before he decided he really wanted to wear a beard, who wandered into the desert country of southwest Texas almost fifteen years ago, ten years after he first visited it, in search of clean air and tired of measuring life by the numbers of airports he passed through in a day... and I reread the beautiful words of the kind and beautiful lady from Santa Barbara... smiling at the magic she found in squat toddlers, cali girls blonde and in search of a surf board, rocks and waves arranged by Mama Nature into Her version of modern pop art... and then I said to myself that the man in the desert should say thank you to the lady who walks by the shore for another gift of magic... thank you, Anitra...Louis

You're so welcome. And thank you for your playful and lyrical prose. The "he/she" second person perspective is an interesting point of view.

I enjoyed hearing about your background. You obviously have many tales to tell. I understand your attraction to the clean dry air of the desert. Thanks so much for sharing some of your history with us.

What a wonderful post. Your photos and words conjure up memories of long and lazy summer days at the beach when I was a kid. The coastline is enchanting no matter what type it is. It could be the rocky and brush-filled Palos Verdes peninsula, the rugged and green coast of the Pacific Northwest, or the lush and verdant coastlines of Hawaii or Tahiti.

I'm so happy that Santa Barbara has treated you so well these many years.

I find it remarkable how you see your home, Santa Barbara, with new eyes each time you release the shutter on your camera. In the freshness of your photos I can taste the salt air. You are among the fortunate few who when called to your place stayed and made it yours.

That last pic does it for me; amazing what an "HD telephoto" effect provided by clear, calm air can be like. Looks like you could just step across to the islands. What a lovely contrast to the heat and murk we've been enduring here in the Midwest, although we did get a respite this weekend.

As always, the prose complements the pics perfectly; your words truly do bring your pictures to life. I'd kinda like to see what effects you'd get shooting in the rather "thick" air we have here. No smog to aggravate the allergies; just natural high humidity, and plenty of blazing sunshine.

Glad you like the photo of The Islands. It was truly stunning to see. And thank you for your generous words. As to shooting photos in the Midwest, I have taken a slew of them. Mostly in Milwaukee. You can catch a few in two posts that I made in Jan., 2011. I found Milwaukee to be a very picturesque place. And then, of course, there are those incredible 4 seasons.

Your Milwaukee pics are most charming and evocative {natch}, but they don't quite capture the specific quality I have in mind. The easiest way to describe it is to picture an open stretch of highway on a very hot day - the way the road shimmers, or seems to have "puddles" on it in the distance. Now, put the shimmer and puddles in the very air ABOVE ground level, and that's what I'm describing. It's a unique phenomenon I'm sure my fellow Midwesterners here would instantly recognize, but it's as elusive as hell to try to capture on film. I've seen perhaps a handful of shots in print or on this Interwide-web thingy over the decades that captured it adequately.

As for the four seasons, both Cali and Colorado {among others} have struck me as amusingly outrageous, in that you can experience two different seasons together simultaneously. When I lived in Colorado during the early '90's, I always got a kick out of starting off at the base of Pikes Peak in shorts and 80 degree temps, only to wind up shivering in a snow squall at the top!

Kinda like putting a hot tub in an igloo, dig?

Keep up the good work Luv, and please pass along a tender kiss to my dear Sveltana next time ya see her, if ya would?

About Me

Yes, this is me, the REAL me. You have reached the woman who was a model in the 60's, an actress in the 70's and wound up behind Door Number Three on The Price is Right. I now walk the beach and hike in the hills of Southern California -- and think of you, the one who might check into this blog and read a thing or two.
Wishing you all creative joy and happy surprises, ~ Anitra.
And oh, to view a larger version of a photograph, simply click on the image. Also, to reach my two blogs, both "Anitra Ford's Personal Blog," and "Anitra's Book of Days," click on the profile link below.